


Little Red

by DancingGrimm



Category: Rotkäppchen | Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consent Issues, M/M, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingGrimm/pseuds/DancingGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Red goes into the woods and meets someone big and bad...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and put it up on AFF, thought I'd share it here too.
> 
> This has some pretty strong consent issues, so if you're unsure about this please read the notes at the end first (though they contain spoilers).

 

It was a cold day in October when Red got a call at work from his Mom saying that his Grandmother was sick. Not serious sick, she rushed to assure him as she heard, over the line, the crash as he dropped a pan onto the counter, but she had some kind of virus and had been told to stay home and take it easy. Problem was, Gramma hated taking things easy. Mom had work that evening and had an optician’s appointment she’d been waiting for for, like, six months the next day, so after a couple of ‘pretty pleases’, Red agreed to go on up to Gramma’s place and check on her. Because, you know, Gramma was cool and he was a good boy. And his Mom _told_ him that he was a good boy, like always, and reminded him of the address again, even though he knew it by heart.

 

He finished work around two that afternoon, changed out of his kitchen clothes and drove home to take a shower and gather up a few things. He could go grocery shopping at the supermarket near to Gramma’s house once he got there if she needed anything, but she liked home cooking, his especially, so he got a few things he’d had in the freezer, dishes of casserole and lasagne and stuff, packed them into a cooler and put them in his car. Then he put a change of clothes into an over-night bag in case she wanted him to hang around, and put on one of the sweaters she’d knitted for him, a fire-truck red one that clashed with the more orange-red of his hair, but who cared. It kept him warm and she liked to see him in things she’d made for him.

 

He got a bottle of water and a pack of cookies for the journey, carried his stuff out to the car and set off. It was a little after three.

 

 

The drive to Gramma’s was a pretty long haul at the best of times. He and his Mom lived in the city, but Gramma hated big urban places. She’d grown up in the countryside and, after Granpa had passed away, she’d declared that she was going back there, and so had moved into a cosy little house on the outskirts of a cosy little town out in, as far as Red was concerned, the middle of nowhere. It was a pretty place, rural but modern, with well kept houses and lots of polite, friendly people who were always in each other’s business and never minded it. It reminded Red of Twin Peaks a little, but she was happy there.

 

To get there from the city, however, unfortunately involved a drive in excess of three hours, the first half on the highway, and from then on through heavily wooded countryside, often going a hell of a long way between signs of civilisation. There were two routes through the forest; one was pretty direct, but it was virtually unpopulated, an old logging road that was almost unused since the plant that had required it had shut down. Not only was it unlit and creepy, it was also entirely possible to overshoot your exit and end up going a hell of a distance out of your way. The second option was more round-about, but threaded its way through a number of smaller towns and villages along the route, which broke up the journey and made it easier to gauge where he was. Red generally took the latter route. What was another half-hour on the journey if he could avoid that miserable logging road?

 

Or rather, it was usually only another half hour. But as the autumn afternoon faded into darkness, a thick fog began to rise along the forest road, clinging to the windshield and clogging the streams of light from the headlamps. Red was a careful driver, he slowed the car down, hunkered over the wheel and squinted out at the gloomy road, vaguely aware that it was getting later and later. He knew that his Gramma wasn’t the type to worry over nothing, she wouldn’t be too upset if he was late, and he knew Mom wouldn’t have told her a definite time for him to arrive, so that should be okay. But he sure as hell didn’t want to be out all night if he didn’t have too, not on a night like this.

 

Just as he was beginning to really worry, the fog growing denser with every hundred yards and the reach of the lamps getting shorter and shorter, he glimpsed a lit sign at the side of the road. A ‘50s style poster advertising ‘Fantastic Food for all the Family’, two miles further along. Thank God, he was getting close to Hobart’s Field.

 

Hob’s Field, as the locals called it, was a little village, old fashioned looking with a handful of stores lining the road for a stretch of about half a mile, and half a dozen streets of smallish houses, with a few more homes scattered out just beyond. Quiet little place, most people there were either retired or worked nearby. They’d stopped here once, him and Mom. What had that been for? Oh yeah, he’d pestered her to go to the diner when he was a kid. It was cool looking, all shiny red paint and steel cladding, with a big neon sign above. Maybe he’d drop in there on the way back.

 

Suddenly a bright flicker of light overhead startled him, and he gripped the wheel, smacking the brake down so hard the car almost swerved. Leaning forward to try and spot the source of the light, he gasped and then felt a rush of relief. It was the moon. Christ knew how it was visible now, what with the fog and the trees, but he would have sworn that he hadn’t seen it before on the way there. And now, there it was, plain as the day. A big, fat, silvery near-full moon, right up high.

 

He could barely see anything else around him though. And now his heart was pounding. How late would Gramma stay up to wait for him? And would that diner still be open, because he sure as hell needed a break or he’d be a nervous wreck by the time he got to her. He checked his watch; 7.30. Seriously? The pitch dark was playing games with him, making him lose track of time. It was nowhere near as late as he’d thought.

 

He started moving again, still careful, still slow, and in less than a minute, he was pulling up outside the diner in Hob’s Field, its neon sign like a beacon in the overbearing darkness. Red shut off the car engine, and the sudden lack of noise in the confines of the car was eerie. He zipped up his coat and clambered out, stretching out his arms and legs in the empty parking lot, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, before heading inside.

 

It was so warm in the diner that the windows were steaming up, and Red almost felt bad opening the door to go in, some strange notion affecting him, that maybe that fog would hitch a ride indoors with him and spread its chill around the cosy place. But no, once inside the cold was chased from his body by kitchen-warm air and the scent of coffee. There was hardly anyone there; a teenage boy and girl sitting opposite each other in a booth, picking at a shared plate of fries in between whispers of furtive conversation and glances out the window. A middle-aged man in a plaid coat and a trucker cap was hunched over a cup of coffee at the far end of the counter, an empty plate at his elbow. Another man, tallish and lanky in bad tan slacks and a windbreaker was working his way through a plate of spaghetti with intense determination. A foot, clad in a blue sneaker, stuck out from behind the counter, toe pressed against the shiny floor tiles, though he couldn’t see the person it belonged to.

 

He headed over to the counter, picked a seat somewhere near the middle and gave the trucker a nod as he slid onto the stool. Almost the second he sat down, a wiry guy in a red apron and black and white check pants popped up from nowhere and beamed at him, nearly making Red jump out of his skin.

 

“Hi kid, welcome! Shitter of a night, ain’t it?” The guy said brightly, as if nothing could make him happier than a foggy night and a complete stranger sat in front of him.

 

“Sure is.” Red replied, heart still thumping. He was on the verge of asking for a menu, when the guy carried on.

 

“I was just saying to the wife, oh, my dear lady is the one performing miracles on the soda machine, to my right,” he said with a gesture towards the woman who was half-sprawled on the floor behind the counter, her head and shoulders inside a hulking piece of machinery that appeared to be built into the wall back there. Blue sneaker lady.

 

“I was just saying, wasn’t I Ronnie honey, (she’s Ronnie, I’m Ron, ain’t that a sign from on high?) I said I feel for any poor creature got to drive on a night like this. I bet it’s like driving through smoke. I bet you could barely see ten feet in front, am I right?”

 

Red nodded, waited a moment to see if Ron would continue, but no, it seemed to be his turn now.

 

“I’m heading into Denebrook. And yeah, it’s a hell of a night to be driving. I sure was glad when I saw the sign for this place.” He glanced around inquisitively, hoping Ron would get the hint, and sure enough, a menu was whisked out from an apron pocket and stuck in his hand. He gave Ron a smile and glanced over the list of drinks on the back, wondering if a beer would perk him up or make him sleepy at this point.

 

“Hey Terry,” Ron called to the trucker, “You going much further tonight?”

 

“Just a little ways.” The trucker, Terry, replied. “Just back to the meadow. Not too far.”

 

The meadow, ironically, was the big industrial development about 30 miles away. Red had no idea what they did there, but he’d driven past it once or twice and it looked like a nightmare.

 

“Be sure you got your lights all working right Terry,” Ron advised, “This kid’s just been driving in it and he says it’s a real shitter of a night. Right kid?”

 

“Uh, yeah. It really is.” Red replied, feeling slightly useless.

 

“Damn.” Terry said, sounding bored.

 

Feeling he ought to add something, if only so Ron wasn’t the one doing all the work keeping the party bubbling, he added “You should see the moon though. I don’t know how it’s cutting through the fog, but it’s really bright tonight.”

 

For a moment, Ron stared evenly at him, looking slightly pensive, then his eyes widened. “Damn, nearly forgot.” He said, still sounding chipper. He turned to the door of a refrigerator underneath the counter and pulled out a package wrapped in greaseproof paper. By the look of it, Red guessed it contained a big block of hamburger or something similar, squashy looking and pink. Ron set it on the back counter, then turned back to him.

 

“So, what can I get you?”

 

At that moment, a creak and a whoosh of chilly air announced the arrival of another person, and Ron was immediately distracted, turning away again to pick up the parcel of meat and rapidly shuffle it into a paper lunch bag. Red heard footsteps thump across the floor to stop a few paces to his right, a rustling sound, which resolved itself to the noise of gloves being removed as he turned his head enough to see the newcomer’s hands. He glanced up briefly at the guy, then found himself doing a rapid double take; The man now standing a couple of feet away from him was _huge_. He had to be at least 6’6”, broad shouldered and deep chested, his now-bare hands big and long-fingered. Even with the heavy coat and loose jeans he wore, Red could see that his limbs were powerful and thick. God, just how he liked a guy built. He felt heat in his face, a little squirm low down between his legs, and stifled a sigh. It had been far too damn long; if he wasn’t careful he’d start getting weird.

 

Ron handed over the package of burger meat over to the newcomer with another beaming smile, accepting a handful of bills and a croaky-voiced word of thanks. Red took another quick look at the guy’s face as he turned to leave, catching a glimpse of light-coloured eyes and thick black hair lying over the pale forehead, before he hunched the hood of his coat back up, tugging his scarf up around his face. Shame. It would have been nice to get a decent look. Warm the cold nights a little until he found somebody new.

 

But the door creaked again as the visitor disappeared out into the dark and Red turned back to Ron. He was staring at the now closed door, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. Then he blinked hard, once and was back to the big grin.

 

“What can I get you then, kid?” he asked, leaning on the counter across from Red.

 

“Can I get a beer please?” Hopeful tone to his voice that he wished hadn’t been in there, but he was sick of getting carded and his drivers license was out in the glove box.

 

“You got some ID son?”

 

Damn. “Yeah, I’ll go get it. Can I get a cheeseburger too please? I’ll be right back.”

 

Ron gave him an apologetic smile and nodded, turning to start the food as Red headed for the door. As he opened it the blast of damp, chilly air nearly made him say forget it, I’ll have a coffee. But he was already cold now, so he stepped out and headed for his car.

 

There was no streetlight out there, the lot being just a little beyond the rest of the village’s main street, so the only light was from the neon sign and the watery glow from the windows. Across the street he could just barely make out the shape of a truck, no containers, probably the property of Terry. His own car was just as hard to see, never mind that it was only a few yards away. The fog was still heavy, hardly any wind tonight. There seemed to be a faint glow in the sky, possibly where the moon was tucked behind a cloud, possibly a trick of his eyes. He crunched across the gravel and unlocked the passenger side door, settling on the edge of the seat to reach in the glove compartment and take out the little plastic folder that contained his license. The glove box made a satisfyingly loud _snap_ in the quiet darkness as he shut it. Slamming and locking the car door, he took another glance up at the sky where he thought the moon might be and turned back towards the diner-

 

-and nearly shit his pants. A huge hooded figure was between him and the diner and he had a panicked second of thinking of slasher movies before he realised it was the guy who’d come into the diner for the burger meat.

 

“Oh jeez,” he gasped, “You really scared me.”

 

“Sorry.” A low voiced mumble, and the guy pushed back his hood. In the gloom, Red still couldn’t see much of his face.

“You got far to drive tonight?”

 

“Uh, no, not too far. Just over to Denebrook.”

 

The guy stared at him, silent.

 

“I’m going to visit my Grandmother. She’s sick so…I’m visiting her.” Weak. But the guy was still silent and it was starting to freak him out.

 

“Gonna… take her some food, you know, make sure she’s okay. You know?” The guy…sniffed. Leaned forward and sniffed at the air. Red felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift up, and at the same time there was heat gathering in his stomach, in his groin. Okay, so he was sick.

 

“Be careful.” The big guy said. His voice, despite the harsh, croaky edge to it, was deep and soft. Red couldn’t help getting a little turned on. The guy glanced around, at the road, at the parking lot. It was hard to see much further than that. “It’s a bad night to be out.”

 

“The fog, right. I’ll be careful. Thanks man.”

 

The guy stared at him a moment longer and Red wished, really wished, that he could see his face properly. Then he just turned and left, striding quickly off the gravel and onto a barely visible dirt path leading into the trees, the paper bag tucked in the crook of one big arm.

 

Red stared after him for a moment, then shivered, and turned to go back inside.

 

The warmth in the diner was a hell of a shock this time, the sudden blast of it making the skin on his face prickle. This time he took his coat and scarf off and laid them over the stool next to his as he sat down. Ron popped up and he presented the license for inspection, picking the scent of his burger cooking out of the rest of the food smells in there.

 

“Rufus Brennard. Hey, you any relation of Louise Brennard? That why you going to Denebrook?”

 

“Yeah, she’s my Grandmother. I’m just taking some stuff to her and-“

 

 “Twenty six? Seriously?” Ron cried, astonished. “You’re kidding me!”

 

Red sighed. “Nope. Apparently I don’t look it.” Ronnie had wandered over by now, and was looking over her husband’s shoulder at the ID, at Red’s face, and back.

 

“I woulda’ said about nineteen,” she interjected. Red stifled another sigh.

 

He heard a squeak as a chair was pushed back a little way away, footsteps coming towards him, and he turned to see the guy who had the spaghetti walking over to the counter, his windbreaker now flapping open to show a state trooper uniform. Ron straightened, giving the guy an annoyed look, which was when Red realised that the guy wasn’t heading for the counter, he was heading for him.

 

With a click of his shoes on the tile, the guy stopped right next to him and leaned down, got in his face just a little. Oh crap.

 

“Kid, you know where you’re going this evening? Where you’re driving to?”

 

“Uh, yeah. I’m gonna go see my Gramma. I’ve driven there a load of times. It’s no problem. I mean, I know the fog’s pretty bad, but I’m driving slow. I’m doing fine.”

 

The guy cut his eyes towards Ron, who was still looking a bit peeved, then leaned in closer and stared right at Red, like he was trying to hypnotise him almost. He’d thought the look the guy was giving his spaghetti was intense, but this was just a little scary. Oh crap, was he going to get on his case about the beer?

 

“Listen kid, there’s worse than fog out there. Especially tonight.”

 

“Um…alright. What?”

 

The guy smiled, just slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just be careful. Don’t go in the woods, you got me?”

 

“Dave, how long you been awake now bud?” Ron asked in a tone of false cheer.

 

“It…it’s not that, Ron. I’m trying to warn the kid here.” Suddenly the guy wasn’t the least bit frightening. Ronnie gave Red a conspiratorial smile, then headed back into the chasm of the soda machine. Ron and the trooper, Dave, bickered in hushed voices for a minute, then Dave turned and stomped out the door, letting another draft of chilly air swoop in. That had been…really strange.

 

But then Ron put a beer on the counter for him, followed it a few minutes later with what turned out to be a really good cheeseburger and all in all he was glad he’d dropped by.

 

He’d been at the diner for around forty minutes by the time he finished his food. In that time the two teenagers had been picked up by the boy’s mother, who didn’t approve of their relationship, and Terry had gone out to get a newspaper from the cab of his truck and had started reading out crossword clues to the world at large. Red had gotten two right.

 

He paid his bill, said goodnight and headed back out to his car. The fog was still heavy and a penetrating chill had settled, but he felt a little more together after his food and, sparing a glance at the narrow path he’d seen the stranger take earlier, he got into his car. It took a couple of minutes from turning the engine over for the heaters to get going, so he was huddled as far as he could get into his coat as he set off, still crawling along through the fog.

 

By the time he had driven through the main street of Hob’s Field, it’s weak street lamps allowing him to speed up a little, through the dark void of uninhabited woodland (throughout which he couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling that there was something in the trees nearby, damn you Dave-the-trooper), and then into Denebrook, it was nearly nine thirty. He felt a little edgy, tired and slightly spooked. He knew Gramma would still be awake though, she was kind of a night owl anyway, and she always had trouble sleeping when she was ill, so he wasn’t too worried about being late. The trouble was that her little house lay at the end of one of the more remote streets at the edge of town, a narrow little strip of asphalt that wound in between forest-deep clusters of shadow.

 

He’d never noticed before how creepy it was down there. At every glint of light from a house, he nearly slammed to a halt, thinking it was the right one, but no, keep going keep going. And again, that strange feeling that he’d had out in the woods before, that there was something out in the trees, beyond his sight, watching him. He knew he was being ridiculous, that he’d just been on the road too long, taken trooper Dave’s ranting too seriously, but still, every now and then, he was sure he’d glimpsed something, just for a second. Some great, shadowy shape, keeping pace with his car.

 

It was a huge relief when he got to Gramma’s driveway. He recognised it right away from the sign stuck in the lawn near the road’s edge, a sign that he’d made and painted for her a couple of years before; ‘Trespassers Will Be Given a Darn Good Talking To.’ He pulled onto the paved drive, pulling up to the doors of the garage where her car was stored and turning the engine off. His lower back was sore from being in the car for so long, he couldn’t wait to get indoors and chill out a little.

 

There was a creak in the trees, out past the house, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, reaching up to switch on the dashboard light and grab the wrench he kept in the car from the door pocket. But nothing happened, nobody was around. Just forest noises. Jeez, he’d been here enough times, he should have gotten used to it by now. Before getting out of the car, he sorted through his key-chain to make sure he had the right key to hand, and pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder, then swung out of the car and walked as fast as he could, refusing to break into a run, to the front door.

 

It wasn’t until he had the key in the lock that he realised there were no lights on in the house. That was…really weird. Even when she went to bed, Gramma usually left the hall light on, but now nothing. The windows were dark as pitch. He turned the key and went into the hall, reaching out to switch on the light. It was warm, the heating had been on, maybe was still running.

 

“Gramma? Gramma it’s me, Red.” Nothing.

 

“Gramma, you home? Are you okay?” Silence.

 

The door to her bedroom, right at the other end of the hall, was open, she’d have heard him if she was awake, woken up if she’d been asleep. He was starting to feel very worried. Into the living room, where she usually sat in the evenings, and there was no sign of her. The kitchen, and no sign, other than a used coffee cup and an empty glass on the drainer, waiting to be washed. Back out into the hall and he was just about to go look in the bedroom when the door of the hall closet caught his eye. It was slightly open, just barely off the latch, and a little scrap of blue fabric was poking out of the gap near the bottom. He wasn’t sure why, but the sight gave him a chill.

 

He reached out a hand towards the door handle, his heart pounding against his ribs, that awful cold trickling through his muscles as his hand moved slowly, his fingertips touched the metal-

 

_beep! you have ONE new message_

“Gah!”

 

With a sudden lunge, he grabbed the closet door open. A blue raincoat fell onto the floor with a soft thump. That was…pretty much it. Nothing to report. He reached in to put the coat back on a hanger, heart still thumping, then turned to the little ornate pedestal table by the kitchen door to check out the answer machine, feeling like a complete dick. The display told him a message had been left about an hour ago. He pressed play.

 

 _first new message !beep!_ Hello Red sweetheart, I hope you get this. I’m sorry I’m not there to meet you, but Rhonda drove me into town late this afternoon so I could get groceries, and by the time we were done this fog had come down and, well, neither of us felt quite up to driving in it. So I’m staying the night at her house and she’s going to drop me back home in the morning. I hope you got there okay sweetie, you’re a good boy coming all the way out here. Now, there’s food in the kitchen and the spare bedroom is all ready for you, so you get a good night’s sleep and I’ll be over there in the morning to get you chopping wood and mending pipes and all kinds of other nasty jobs! Love you Red, kisses! _beep!_ ”

Red chuckled, relieved. Rhonda was Gramma’s favourite crony. They gossiped and went to community meetings together, where they pressed the knowledge of their years on the younger generation and had a huge laugh at their expense. She’d be fine, nothing to worry about. His heart starting to slow back to normal, he decided to get the food in from his car, then get an early night. Even though he had the next few days off, he wanted to get home before dark tomorrow. This evening had been enough creepy night-time travelling for a lifetime.

 

He’d hang around as long as she needed though, even if she wasn’t kidding about all the horrible jobs. He adored Gramma, she was the greatest. A few years ago, when he was nineteen and he decided to come out to his family, she’d been such a huge comfort. His Mom, she wasn’t homophobic, or not really, not now anyway, but it was a surprise to her and not one she was too happy with. She’d gotten a little distant with him for a while, but when he told Gramma, she had just asked if he was happy, and if he was being safe. He’d told her yes, and she’d kissed him on the cheek and sent him up on the roof to unblock the gutters, business as usual. He had a sneaking suspicion that Gramma had had words with Mom too, because she made more of an effort and started talking to him again, properly talking, not long after and it was all back to good between them now. She was also about the only member of his family who called him Red, which he couldn’t help but appreciate. Rufus? Jeez, thanks Mom.

 

Back out to the driveway, and the night was quiet now, only the occasional slight breeze in the branches making any sound. He took the cooler out of the trunk and carried it inside, locking and bolting the door behind him. Switching on the light in the kitchen, he made room in the freezer for some of the food, put the rest in the fridge to defrost, then checked the locks on the window and turned the light out.

 

His bag went on the bed in the little spare room, and he took off his coat and scarf and his shoes, then got his toothbrush out of his bag and went to wash up in the bathroom. It was very still in the house, some kind of sensation that he couldn’t quite place hanging in the air. The fog against the windows made the usually-cosy little house seem isolated, unwelcoming. Feeling on edge, he went into the living room, and then the study and checked the windows in both rooms, made sure they were locked. Then he headed down the hallway to check the kitchen window.

 

The only lights he had on in the house now were those in the spare room, and Gramma’s room was hidden in deep darkness. He slid his hand over the wall, hunting for the light switch, couldn’t find it. He stepped over the threshold, heading for the nightstand and the little lamp there. There were shapes between him and the stark sheen of the window, strange shapes. What the hell did Gramma have in her bedroom? One might have been a hat tree, skinny and branching, another was huge and vaguely shaggy looking. Had she been to the carnival and got a giant teddy bear? It didn’t look that much like a bear though.

 

And then that huge, shaggy shape over by the window shifted, and leapt towards him with a grunt.

 

He opened his mouth to scream, but the thing cleared the bed in one leap and bore him to the floor, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Red squirmed, shoved with his forearms and managed to get his feet underneath himself, scrambling out into the hall. Nearest neighbours were 300 yards away. Would they hear it if he screamed? Only one way to find out, and he dragged in a deep breath.

 

A thump behind him, and he turned as the thing lunged, hairy forepaws hitting him solidly in the chest and knocking him back down. The back of his head jarred against the floor and, stunned, he could barely move as the creature crawled over him.

 

Creature? No, there were hands, fingers, gripping the front of his sweater, it was a guy. His vision was blurry, his head swimming. He could feel hot breath on his face, the weight on top of him shifted and he forced his eyes to focus. Inches away from his own, another pair of eyes stared, silvery gray and big, too big.

 

Again he heaved in a deep breath, and this time found his voice, letting loose with a loud, hoarse yell, his ribs protesting painfully as the guy lifted himself away from him a few inches.

 

And that made everything worse. Because now Red could see the whole of his face. His hairy, long-snouted face. The long ears, Christ, like dog ears.

This time it was a real scream, like a chick in a horror movie, but he didn’t care, he had to get help, had to get away from this _thing_ …

 

The scream died in his throat as its lips drew back in a snarl, letting him get a good look at its teeth. Long, curved carnivore teeth strung with saliva, nothing remotely like a human there. A low growl trickled from its throat as it stared intently into his eyes. Red froze, his muscles locked, the back of his skull pressed to the floor, ancient instincts that had no place here in his Gramma’s hallway, except that there was a…a _monster_ , pinning him there.

 

Its damp nose snuffled the hair at his temple, then his neck, its muzzle pushing his chin up and tilting his head back, baring his throat. Oh God, it was going to kill him, Gramma was going to find him there in the morning with his neck torn open, bled out on the rug…

 

His mind whited out as its hot, slimy tongue slid across his clavicles, one paw-hand tugging down the collar of his sweater, its nose pushing down towards his armpit, snuffling and grunting, and that was it. Red lost it.

 

He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, but he felt every nerve in his body like they were burning, his mouth dried out, his vision sharpened. Terror overwhelmed him, bore him along helplessly in its waves. Unable to move, barely breathing, it was like he was shutting down. He’d never felt anything like it.

 

The thing lifted its head, peered at his frozen face, then heaved itself to its feet, lowering its head to lick at his hair, slicking it flat against his scalp, and he looked down along its heavy body and felt himself chill further. The thing was aroused, its penis hung huge and hard, skin glossy with fluid. Oh hell, what was it going do to him before he died?

 

With a sudden surge of energy, he curled his legs, rolled his weight back towards his shoulders and thrust his feet up into the thing’s stomach. It must have surprised it, the force enough to make it lurch to one side, and Red scrabbled back on the carpet, screaming as loud as he was able, grabbing blindly for a weapon, anything.

 

The creature paced towards him, slowly, stalking. Now he could see it properly, he could barely believe his eyes. Dog-like, but too big for a dog. Too broad in the torso and limbs, the eyes too large and clear. Its tail flickered behind it as it moved, thick black fur rippling along its back, wide flat paws with stubby, claw-tipped fingers.

 

Red’s hand closed around something solid and he grabbed hold, swinging it around to strike at the thing’s face. It skittered back from him as the object, the little round table that the phone had been on, smacked down onto the floor in front of it, and Red hauled the table up to try again, holding it like a bat by it’s stand. He was still sitting on the floor, he could feel the muscles in his legs trembling, and he didn’t know if it was adrenaline or shock. If he had to run to save himself, he was probably finished.

 

The creature stood still, regarding him silently with those cold silver eyes. It hunkered down a little, as if ready to pounce, and he tensed to take a swing at it, last resort. And it…it sniffed again. Lifted its nose to the air. Stared at his face for a moment, sliding its gaze down his body.

 

Then it turned, and fled.

 

The back door made an almighty crash as it flew open, and the darkness beyond swallowed the creature up, muffling its footfalls as it ran from the house.

 

Red had no idea how long he sat there, on the floor of the hall, the ornate table clutched in his hands. It was only when it started to rain, water spattering through the open doorway, that he moved. The table fell from his grip, crashing onto the floor. Grabbing the kitchen doorframe, he heaved himself to his feet, every muscle in his body trembling. His skin flushed with painful heat and he staggered. Was this shock?

 

He made his way unsteadily to the back door and, gathering his courage, peered out. Rain and darkness, bare tree branches waving gently. Nothing else.

 

It took him several tries before he managed to grip the door handle, then an astonishing amount of effort to get the door closed. He turned the key and rattled the bolt into place, then settled his forehead against the cool wood for a moment. The air felt thick in his lungs, he couldn’t get enough breath. The room spun. He could feel his stomach churning and staggered away from the door and into the bathroom, thudding to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up. It wouldn’t stop, vomit and bile searing his throat, until he was dry heaving, agony in his stomach, clenching his ribs.

 

Finally it seemed to be over. He was cold now. He washed his face, dried it, switched off the lights. Went into the spare room, stripped to his underwear, and got into the bed. Eventually, he fell asleep.

 

::

 

By morning, it was a bad dream. A dog had got into the house somehow. Leapt at him. He’d smacked it with the table and it had run away. Then he’d had a nightmare while he slept. The bathroom smelled rank, there was vomit in the toilet bowl and he flushed it away. The food from the diner must have disagreed with him. That would explain the sickness, the stomach pain, even the lingering feeling of cold. He’d been tired and worried last night, should have stayed away from greasy food. He brushed his teeth, got in the shower and stayed there until he was warm, then dried off and dressed.

 

By the time Rhonda brought Gramma home, he was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table and was ready to put on a happy face for them. Gramma flung her arms around him as she came in the door, squeezing tight enough to make him wheeze. Rhonda kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair, handed him the bags of groceries that Gramma had bought the previous day, and hurried off. Red was glad to finally be alone with Gramma, the quiet little house and her gentle voice, until she noticed the table, that he hadn’t thought to pick up from the floor.

 

“Whatever happened here, sweetheart?”

 

“Uh, I think a dog got in the house or something.”

 

“You think? Well…what happened?”

 

His memory was hazy now. What had he been dreaming that had confused him this much?

 

“I…there was something hiding in your room when I got here. It had gotten in through the back door, I think, at least it was open. It jumped at me. I grabbed the table and hit it.”

 

Gramma gasped and grabbed his hand.

 

“I’m okay,” He assured her. “Really, it just freaked me out a little. I forgot all about the table. Sorry.”

 

She put her arms back around him. “Don’t you worry sweetie, I’m just glad you’re okay. Now, what kind of dog was it? Did you get a good look? I can call the police and ask them to keep their eyes peeled.”

 

“Gramma, you ought to be in bed.”

 

“Bullhockey! Dog! What kind?” She had the phone in her hand and a no-nonsense look on her face.

 

Could he remember what kind of dog it was? He’d had a good look at it, yes, but…the details didn’t stick.

 

“I don’t really remember. The lights were off but, I don’t know…I guess it was a pretty big dog. I think it was grey or black. Dark grey.”

 

Gramma nodded and dialled the phone, greeting the person on the other end by their first name. Red picked up the grocery bags and took them into the kitchen to unpack, switching on the electric kettle for tea as he did so. A dog had attacked him. Got in through the back door and tried to maul him. He’d hit it with the table. It had run. Why didn’t it feel real?

 

Gramma put the phone down, and he took a cup of tea out to her. She was looking a little worn, a little pale.

 

“How are you feeling, Gramma?” he asked, herding her into the living room.

 

She sighed heavily and accepted the teacup. “A little tired, but I still say that damn doctor worries too much. Come and sit a while with me. Tell me what’s going on, Red. I’m so far away from you two out here.”

 

He smiled and sat on the couch across from her. She snuggled back in her armchair and sipped her tea, and he told her all about work, and his apartment and his friends. And then about his Mom and her work and her friends. By the time he had her all updated, she was looking drowsy.

 

“Did you say you had some jobs for me to do?”

 

“Yes Red, but you don’t have to if you need to get back. Don’t worry.”

 

“No worry Gramma, I’m off work the next couple of days. My boss realised I’d been doing a load of overtime, so he gave me extra vacation.”

 

She beamed. “Oh, you’re a good boy. I bet your boss adores you. Okay then, there are a few things that could use mending and looking at.”

 

 

A few hours later, Gramma was napping on the couch and Red had just finished fixing a shelf in the linen closet, before which he’d put new sealant around the bathtub, changed the filters in the kitchen extractor fan, fixed a hinge on the dining room door and climbed up on the roof to check the tiles. While he was working, he checked locks and seals, frames and panels. He was sure that thing wouldn’t get in the house again, at least not without being noticed. It felt good, burning up a little energy. He washed his hands and made sandwiches, then went out to call Gramma for lunch, when he walked past the door of her bedroom and saw the shape of the hat tree against the window…his heart throbbed in his chest, his face felt clammy. He stood, his shoulder braced against the wall, breathing hard for a few minutes. The feeling passed, but still, something felt very wrong. He looked out the window and saw the early afternoon sunlight, watery in a pale sky. He had no idea why he was worried.

 

 

The afternoon passed quickly. Gramma rallied and wrapped up warm to sit out on the back porch while he raked the lawn and tidied the flowerbeds for winter. The fog had cleared and her garden had a beautiful view of the stream down the hill, the water glinting through the trees. He had brought a fuchsia in a large plastic tub up onto the porch so that Gramma could supervise as he cut back its branches ready to be put into the greenhouse for the winter. She chatted quietly to him, getting him up to date on her and Rhonda’s adventures, the gossip in the town. It was soothing. That was until…

 

“It’s getting dark Red, are you sure you’re going to be okay driving home?”

 

Everything came back.

Red felt a chill run down his spine. Oh God, the thing in the trees last night. He had to be out of the woods before dark. He had to!

 

“You’re right Gramma,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Lemme put this in the greenhouse and I’ll set off, okay?”

 

Gramma looked surprised, but she nodded and gathered herself up to go back inside. Red took a moment to calm himself. The dog in the hallway, not a dog, and now it all rushed back into his head, the terror of it… he shuddered, then shook himself to clear his head. He couldn’t worry Gramma, not when she was ill. He picked up the fuchsia and carried it into the greenhouse, then stamped and scraped the mud off his boots and went back inside, gathering up his belongings into his bag. Gramma hugged him, tried to give him money for gas, which he turned down, tried to give him a thermos of coffee for the drive, which he accepted. The he kissed her cheeks, told her he loved her and was in his car and on his way, less than ten minutes after he’d realised the danger in the dark.

 

It might not have been enough. The sun was barely above the horizon now, no fog today but the heavy cloud dampened the light, made shadows hazy. He drove as fast as was safe through the town, out into the woods. As long as he could get past Hob’s Field safely, he’d be okay. He would be okay.

 

 

He had to put the headlights on by the time he got within a few miles of Hob’s Field. The wind had picked up and the woods around him were alive with motion and sound, but he kept his attention on the road ahead. By the time the moon came up, he could see the first few houses of Hob’s Field ahead of him. Whatever it was, the soonest it could have started following him was out between the village and the town. Its territory was there. It wouldn’t follow him past the village, he was sure of it. The stretch was miles, there was no chance, he was _sure_ of it.

 

The illuminated street was a welcome sight, and he almost didn’t want to leave the little village. He considered stopping off at the diner again, but didn’t. He was spooked, despite his assurance of safety. He just wanted to get home, get back to the city, where giant dog monsters just didn’t happen. He drove past the diner, then a minute later, past the diner’s sign, back out into the woods with the headlights on full now. The moon was up above, clear tonight, and wholly full, gleaming there in the sky. His eyes caught on it for a long moment, watching it drift along with him as he headed along the straight stretch of road. Then, just as he returned his attention to the asphalt, he saw movement low down to the left of the car, a brief glimpse of brown fur, and then he hit something with a solid bang.

 

Slamming the breaks on, he skidded the car to the verge of the road and stopped, then sat for a moment, feeling slightly winded. What the hell had that been? That low to the ground, it must have been something small. A rabbit wouldn’t have made that big of a thud though. A fox? A dog?

 

He put on the parking brake and switched off the engine. His flashlight went into his coat pocket, then he took the wrench from the door pocket and worked his hand around it for a moment to be sure of his grip. Then, slowly, carefully, he got out of the car. Ten yards or so behind the car, right in the middle of the road, lay a large shape…he couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing. Shutting the car door as quietly as he could, he carefully edged closer to it. A long, smooth shaped body with short, tawny fur. It was bigger than he’d expected. It must have been moving strangely to have come at him from so low on the ground.

 

As he got closer, he realised; it was a deer. A full grown doe, lying on its side, back towards him. He circled around it, keeping his distance; he knew it could hurt him if he spooked it, if it was still alive. But as he got around to its other side, shone the flashlight on it, there was no doubt. The animal’s midsection was torn open, its guts spilling out onto the asphalt. He grimaced. It was still fresh so no stink yet, but he’d have to pull it off the road. That big an animal, it could be dangerous if anyone else was driving that road in the dark.

 

He stuck the wrench in his coat pocket and, holding the flashlight, grabbed onto one of the deer’s hind legs and started to pull. As he did, a realisation struck him; what was there on his car that could have caused that much damage to the deer’s belly? Moving it had pulled the wound further open, and the tear looked…strange. Changing his grip on the flashlight he leaned down to take a closer look. The wound looked brutal. Inflicted. As if something big, maybe claws, maybe teeth-

 

Oh no. No. His heart drumming with fear and adrenaline tingling in his muscles, Red looked up and shone the light towards the car, where it glinted off the huge silver eyes of the creature loping towards him. He looked behind him, up the road, back towards the car, but he was entirely alone out here. No lights or buildings in sight. Nothing and nobody to help him. Grabbing the wrench back out of his pocket, he held it aloft, remembering now with perfect clarity the thing’s reactions, the way it had fled when he threatened it with the table. But now, it kept its steady pace towards him, slow and assured in its approach.

 

He could barely take in the details of its body, so focused was he on the silver eyes that were on a level with his chest. He could hear the muted strikes of its large paws against the ground as it moved. He kept himself steady, ready to bring the wrench down as soon as it started towards him again. But no, once it had stopped, it just stood there, a few feet away. He saw its eyes move, taking in his stance, the weapon in his hand, the flashlight he still had trained on it. And then, in one fluid movement, it hauled itself upright, onto its hind legs, and stood before him.

 

The creature towered over Red. Its body was broad and powerful, its limbs thick and sturdy. It stared at him, steadily, silently, down the length of its muzzle. Red thought he might mess his pants. What the hell was it? He swung the wrench, aiming at its shoulder to try and disable a limb, but a rapid swipe of its forepaw knocked it out of his hand to clatter away into the ditch by the road. His hand stung with the force of the blow. And still it just stood there, watching him.

 

Red told himself sternly, don’t be scared. It won’t do you any good. Get out of this alive and then you can be scared. He squashed down his fear, buried it, forced his head to clear. The creature sniffed at the air. Its lips peeled back from those dreadful teeth.

 

Red feinted left then darted right and dashed past it, making a desperate run for the car, but a claw caught at his elbow, tearing his sleeve and spinning him off his feet. He caught himself on his palms, grating the skin from them, and twisted to look back at the creature. It was on all fours again, right behind him. It growled.

 

Instinct took over, and Red lumbered to his feet and began to run, as fast as he could muster. The creature darted in front of him, between him and the car, so he changed direction, and bolted away up the road, back towards Hob’s Field. If he could get close enough, yell loud enough, but no, it was in front of him again, and he turned and took the only route left open to him; into the woods.

 

Stupid, _stupid_! He told himself. He’d had little chance on the road, virtually none now he was in among the trees, tearing noisily through the grasses and ferns. But still, if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to just give up. He’d run until his heart stopped if he had to. Then, just as he was sure it was almost on him, the sounds of its steps moved off to his left and he bore right a little and suddenly his feet were on a path. An old dirt path through the trees, and he could run full out. He could feel the reaction of the adrenaline in his muscles, forcing him along faster, faster, and how quickly could an animal that size hope to run anyway, especially among the trees? Maybe he had a chance!

 

A light up ahead spurred him on even faster. A house. People. He could do this. He couldn’t hear the creature any more, had he really left it that far behind? His heart leapt as he got onto the gravel path that lead to the house, still a couple of hundred yards away by that point, but there was the mailbox, and he could make out the shape of the narrow porch in the light, the front door, the fence, an old house but in good repair, and it was clear somebody lived there. Just a little further, he told himself, just a little further.

 

His feet hit the steps to the porch and he lurched up them, banged his fists on the door, yelling almost incoherently for help. There was no answer, no sound at all from inside. There were no windows up there on the porch, but if he could break a window, just a space big enough to put his hand through, reach in and unlock it, he could barricade himself in and phone for help. He turned and started down the steps to head for the window next to the narrow porch, was nearly back on the path when he realised that the creature was right in front of him.

 

He froze. It was on its hind legs again, staring levelly at him. It made a vague gesture towards him with a forepaw, but he didn’t, couldn’t move. It was only when it lowered its head and snapped its teeth at him, shifting forwards to hurry him back up the steps towards the door, that he realised he hadn’t found his way to this house by chance.

 

He’d been herded here.

 

He edged carefully back up the steps, hoping like hell that it wouldn’t follow. It stayed put, at least until he reached the porch, then it shifted and stepped forward, awkward on two feet, making it’s way towards him again. It gestured again, its paws ill suited to communication. Red stood dumbly, until it repeated the gesture, adding a show of fangs, and he got it; reached back and scrabbled for the door handle, turning it and finding it unlocked. Warm air drifted from inside, and, seeing that the creature seemed to be waiting for him to move, he turned his head enough to see into the house.

 

The light he’d seen was a lamp on a small dresser a few feet inside the door. There was a large open room, a low fire in the fireplace casting a bruise-red glow over the shapes of sofas and a table. On the far side of the room, to either side of the fireplace, were a couple of doors. Perhaps there was another exit. Neither of them looked likely though.

 

A gruff noise behind him, and he stepped backwards without even thinking, feeling the soles of his shoes scuffle the doormat across the floor. Oh God, he suddenly thought, what about the people who lived here? Had it done something to them? Had it killed some poor family, just to have somewhere to bring him?

 

Shit, what was it going to do to him?

 

 

Red turned back to the doorway, skittering back into the room as the creature came through the door, its body filling the frame completely for a moment. Then, it shoved the door shut, and Red’s last glimpse of the world outside the house was gone. Nothing now but the unfamiliar room at his back and the monster in front of him.

 

He felt strange, not detached, and yet not overcome by his fear, as he would have expected himself to be. He felt alert, energised. Even when the creature lowered its head towards him, sniffing at him again, he didn’t even flinch. And when it reared away from him and stepped to one side to look around the room, he felt a surge of defiant hope inside him.

 

The creature cocked its head as it looked appraisingly at something across the room by the fire. Red was about to turn and see what it was, when one claw-hand clenched into the fabric of his jacket at his shoulder, turning him and pushing him forward. For an instant the thought of making a run for one of the doors crossed his mind, but the creature was still right behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat off its body.

 

He heard and felt it shift behind him and realised that it had dropped back onto all fours again. Turning his head to get a look at it got him growled at, so he just kept moving, edging slowly forward across the room, his arms held away from his sides, as non-threatening as he knew how to be. If he had a chance to survive, it surely involved avoidance of threatening behaviour of any kind. How he could count as a threat to a creature that size he wasn’t sure, but it was the sort of thing people said on nature shows, like about not pissing off mountain lions and…maybe he was getting a little detached after all.

 

He was most of the way across the room, nearly at the fireplace, when the creature made a gruff noise in its throat, then reached out with one fore-paw to catch at his knee. Surprised, Red staggered as the joint went weak and collapsed, landing him on his backside in front of the sofa. He turned his head sharply to look at the creature, expecting to be savaged for his clumsiness, but instead it was looking at him thoughtfully. Turning its head, it studied their immediate surroundings and Red found himself doing the same, glancing quickly at the wide stone fireplace, the smooth floorboards covered by a thick rug, the worn leather sofa at his back.

 

The creature seemed satisfied, by what Red didn’t know, but it suddenly sat down on the rug, in front of him and slightly to his left, sitting like a regular dog, tail curled almost demurely over its fore-paws.

 

Red stared at it. It cocked its head and stared back.

 

Red edged away, just an inch. It showed the slightest flash of teeth, and he froze.

 

Red wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that strange stalemate. His heart drummed in his chest, but his head stayed clear. When that numbing terror threatened to rise up, he squashed it back down. Even though he was fairly sure he was going to die.

 

When the creature finally moved he flinched like he’d been scalded, scrabbled for his control and held himself still as it shifted towards him, sniffing at him again. A sudden flashback to the previous night as it nosed at his throat, its tongue sliding wetly across his Adam’s apple, the corner of his jaw. He clenched his fists, digging his knuckles into the floorboards and fighting not to make a noise.

 

It backed off a little, its liver-pink tongue flicking up over its top lip before it closed its mouth. Red gasped, then bit his lip as its ear twitched at him. Stillness for a moment as it studied him, its face inches away from his chest, moving slightly as it looked carefully at his clothes, his bent knees, the rapid movements of his chest as he breathed. Then it shifted position and he saw that-oh god, oh no- just like when he’d seen it the previous night, it was aroused.

 

Suddenly, faster than his eyes could make sense of, its forepaw shot out towards him, claw-fingers clenching into his jacket at his shoulder and pulling it up and back, sliding his arm half out of his sleeve and dragging the other arm up behind him. Twisting sharply to avoid being lifted off the floor, Red grunted as the creature pulled the fabric sharply towards itself, and that was it, his jacket was off, tossed somewhere on the floor on the other side of the couch.

 

The creature seemed quite pleased with this. It took another deep sniff, snuffled at the exposed strip of skin on his shoulder where his sweater collar had been pulled across, and then the paw grabbed at him again, clutching and pulling at his sneaker this time. It yanked him forwards, away from the support of the couch, and Red was stunned at how easily his body fell to the floor, too weak with shock to hold himself upright. He put his toe to the back of his shoe and shoved it off, then did the same with the other one before the creature could grab at him again.

 

No shoes now, huge dog-creature sniffing at his feet, which he was sure couldn’t be pleasant after his afternoon of yard work, but it seemed to enjoy it because now its claw-fingers were plucking at his sock and…oh God, it was undressing him. Just what the hell was it doing? Shit, didn’t polar bears pull peoples clothes off before they ate them or something?

 

It managed to yank his socks off, dragging Red another couple of inches across the floor as it did, then slicked the arch of his right foot with its long tongue, making him flinch, a pang of heat shooting up his spine. It shifted and reached a paw towards his arm again, and he took the risk of pre-empting it, grabbing the bottom of his sweater and t-shirt and squirming out of them, his shoulders dropping back onto the coarse rug and the cool floor as he got the fabric over his head.

 

Faint snuff of sound from the creature which Red took to be approval, and he risked another glance at it – sharp silvery eyes, pink tongue lolling in the slightly open mouth, huge swollen cock between its powerful hind legs, a thread of fluid strung between the tip and the rough fur on its belly. It looked… its cock looked…human.

 

Red shuddered, feeling acid rise in his throat, but at the same time his skin prickled with heat. His breathing was becoming short, its scent tingling in his nostrils as it shifted forwards to stand almost over him where he now lay on the floor. ‘Sicko’, he called himself in the privacy of his mind, ‘why the hell aren’t you trying to stop this anymore?’ But the rebuke wasn’t enough, and when those vicious fingers curled in the waistband of his jeans, he simply reached down and unfastened the button and the zipper, lifted his hips up as it pulled the denim off, carefully lifted the waistband of his underwear away from his own hard cock so it could get rid of those too.

 

And then he was naked on the floor, with a monster on top of him, his heart pounding behind his ribs, his whole body greedy for its touch. He didn’t know what was going on, with the situation at large or his own desperate body…but if this was going to be the last thing he did, he was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

 

The pads of rough skin on its palm were hot against Red’s hip as it gripped him there and pulled him bodily onto the rug. The heat of the fire to his right, the heat from the creature’s body above him, and the searing heat of arousal running in his blood made him feel dazed. It felt all at once like it had suddenly begun, and yet like it had been there all along, waiting for him to notice. The creature held his wrist and licked wetly at the graze on his palm, and he tried to turn his mind to working out how long he’d been hard for before it took his pants off, but his mind was having none of it.

 

It had to be adrenaline reaction, getting him this worked up, he told himself as it pushed his thighs apart and crouched in the space between them, scenting the air inches above his groin. But every sense he had told him, no, not adrenaline. Stockholm syndrome, he wondered, as the creatures silver eyes fluttered shut and a satisfied rumble escaped its chest. But no, his body told him that this was nothing but what it was.

 

Then that hot tongue swiped his skin, from the base of his dick up to the tip, up his stomach and chest and neck to flick under his chin, and he let his head fall back onto the rug and gave up on thinking.

 

Monster’s mouth at his throat and he didn’t give a damn because his body was _buzzing_. It stuck one paw under the small of his back and lifted his lower body until his dick was pressed against its solid, furry belly, the head of its own cock nudging stickily at the back of his thigh, and he flinched, thinking for a moment that he was going to come.

 

The creature grunted breathlessly and lowered him back to the floor, shook itself slightly, then grabbed his hip and rolled him, turning him neatly onto his front. Red knew what was going to happen, knew it would probably hurt him pretty badly, but he couldn’t make himself frightened, couldn’t try to escape. He wanted it. As if to make him prove this, the creature pushed at the backs of his thighs with its knuckles and, understanding, he pushed his hips up, getting his weight on his knees. Another happy rumble – the thing liked it doggy-style, big surprise.

 

It got a good grip on the tops of his thighs, pulled his legs further apart, spread his buttocks open. Then that hot, sloppy tongue swiped up the crack of his ass making him jump. It gripped tighter, licked again and then thrust its tongue into him, as deep as it would go in that first stroke, then in deeper. Teeth pricked the soft flesh of his ass as it worked at him, mouth wide open, broad, flexing tongue pumping. Breath huffing against his back and he could feel his body opening for it, warming and softening.

 

A shift behind him, it moved one hand to his shoulder, lining up behind him and Red braced his forearms on the rug. Brush of coarse fur against his back and the insides of his thighs and then the broad head of its cock was pressing in, squeezing in. The stretch hurt like hell, he could hear a weird keening noise coming out of his throat as he fought not to fight it. In deeper with every second and, despite the pain, the burning crush of it inside him was beautiful. Memories flickered into his mind, lovers he told to be rough with him, to do it hard, but this was…this was almost too real.

 

In deep now, and the good kind of pain right down inside, pulsing burn that sparked off sharp twinges of pleasure, chasing through him. It withdrew a little, shoved back in hard enough to make Red’s knee skid on the rug. His leg was grabbed, propped back underneath him, and then the creature seized his hips, drew its cock smoothly out of him and thrust back in so hard that it made him yell.

 

It didn’t slow down, just pounded into him, until his arms slid on the carpet and he felt it stretch its legs out behind them, claws scraping along the wood floor, one fore-paw on the floor and the other tucked around his stomach. It was fucking him so hard now, so deep inside, he could barely breathe.  His head spun, his body seized, and the creature bucked and yowled as it felt him come. It curled over his back as his body became slack, only its arm under his hips keeping him from collapsing completely as it quickened its pace, short, stabbing thrusts into his very core, its pelvis battering against him as it kept itself embedded deep. Red could barely see, the tidal wave of his orgasm had hit him so hard, and still it wouldn’t let up. A scratch against his belly made him flinch, as it clenched the paw that held him into a fist, and then a burst of warmth, a thrust so hard he felt his joints creak, and a startling, guttural groan as it came.

 

Red’s ears buzzed. Hot breath heaved past the back of his neck. Gradually, steadily, the creature lowered him back down to the floor. Only as its barely softened cock slid from his body did Red realise how he ached, from his ass to his knees, elbows, shoulders, the whole length of his back. The carpet was soft and cushioning under him, the warmth of the fire welcome. He was…dazed. Dizzy. Now it was over, he was aware that he should be trying to get away, or at least to make sense of what was going on, but he could barely bring himself to move. The creature settled down onto the carpet, letting its weight rest on Red’s back for a moment and shoving the air from his lungs, before it twisted slightly to flop onto the floor, keeping him between it and the fire. He had a feeling that that small threat held some kind of meaning, showing that it could hurt him just with its bodyweight. But he couldn’t bring himself to think it through. He was falling asleep, stubbornly comfortable in the curve of the monster’s body.

 

::

 

Red’s back was warm, as were his legs and the strip of his stomach shielded by the arm draped around him, but the rest of his skin was cool, just enough so as to be uncomfortable. His brain felt fuzzy and he wondered if he was hung over. Had he been drinking? And who the hell was lying behind him?

 

Peeling his eyes open, he became aware that it was daylight, just about, weak grey light creeping in around the edges of the haphazardly drawn curtains at the windows. Red’s eyes felt grainy. A blur a few feet away from him gradually transformed into a fireplace, the remains of the logs just barely smoking. He was on a rug, old and worn soft and … and that was when it came back to him.

 

Skittering forward, the draped arm slid off his hip as he moved, the form behind him mercifully staying put. Off the edge of the rug and he felt the startling bite of cold against his feet as they slapped onto the wooden floor. Crouching there, head down and panting for suddenly absent breath, Red struggled to make sense of the whirl of images in his head; the dark road, the frenzied run through the woods, viciously crushed fear and screaming pleasure. That…thing had brought him here and raped…had it?

 

He swallowed hard and thought carefully. Had it been…how could it have been? What else could it be? Steeling himself, he straightened his back and knelt up, then turned his head and looked at the creature on the rug.

 

No creature.

 

A man. A complete damn stranger, but a man. A tall, broad man, with a sturdy kind of musculature, like a rugby player or something. His skin was pale and his hair was dark, nearly black, a thick spread of body hair across his torso, threading down to his groin. He lay on his side, his head pillowed of his forearm, legs drawn up a little and his other arm stretched out across the rug, where Red had been lying. Red let himself glance down and saw the man’s large, soft cock, slumped on his drawn-up thigh.

 

It was a real surprise. How had this guy gotten here? And where was the creature? And why, having come into the house and found Red lying naked on the floor, did he strip off and lay down next to him for some shuteye? Red took a better look at the man’s face; he was maybe in his late thirties with a square jaw and a straight nose. Quite a good looking kind of face and …wait, maybe he did know this guy…

 

Who was awake.

 

Who was staring at Red with his mouth and his grey eyes wide open, like he was about to go into shock, face completely white.

 

“Wha…how did you get here?”

 

“Uh-“

 

“Oh Jesus. Oh shit!” And the guy was on his feet, half crouched as if he was in pain, looking utterly fucking terrified!

 

“Oh God, I did it, didn’t I? Did I?”

 

“Uh-“

 

“Shit, did I hurt you?”

 

Red took stock. A few aches, twinges, but overall- “I’m okay. I think. What…the hell.”

 

The guy heaved in a strangled sounding breath and rose to his feet, towering over Red in a disturbingly familiar way. He visibly struggled to find something to say for a moment, then suddenly turned and stomped over to one of the doors, a few feet from the fireplace. He opened it and went through – from what he could see, Red thought it was the kitchen – then there was a crash and a scraping noise somewhere inside and he let out a stricken moan.

 

Gathering his nerve – which was surprisingly made easier by the other guy’s panic attack – Red got to his feet and walked softly over to the doorway. Peering around the doorframe he saw the guy standing with his palms braced on the edge of the table, his shoulders slumped and his head hung. His chest hitched every few seconds, and Red thought he might be crying. The room was a wreck; an open doorway in a far corner was framed by shards of smashed wood, the shape of the larger pieces suggesting it had once been the door. Beyond that, he could see stairs leading down, something metallic gleaming in the cellar beyond, and what looked like a length of chain trailing up the stairs and onto the kitchen floor. Was this how that thing had gotten into the house? It must have been as strong as hell; the door was completely obliterated.

 

“Whoa,” Red breathed, and at the sound, the man’s head shot up and he looked Red square in the eye.

 

“I’m sorry,” He said hoarsely, and Red could feel a huge welling sorrow in the words.

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“For…for what? You didn’t…are you something to do with that…”

 

“For what?” The guy said, suddenly standing upright, moving slowly towards Red, hands clutched in front of him like he was begging. “I…I chased you and brought you here and…and probably damned near killed you!”

 

“You? But it was that thing!”

 

“God knows what I would have done if I’d caught you the other night because-“

 

“The other night? That was that same weird thing! What the hell-“

 

“I could have really hurt you! I mean, are you really okay? I can’t fucking believe it! I can remember what I did to you-“

 

“- do you have to do with that thing? Are you like its keeper or something, ‘cause if you are you’re –“

 

“- and I wasn’t…Jesus, I didn’t even use…shit, you _smell_ good.”

 

“- doing a shitty job…what?”

 

The guy seemed to lose his energy for a moment, voice fading, spine drooping, and to Red’s astonishment, he dropped to his knees on the dusty floor and stayed there, head hanging again.

 

“What?” Red said.

 

The guy didn’t look at him.

 

“I…that thing.”

 

“Yes.” Red was suddenly aware that he was naked, and cold. He wrapped his arms around his stomach.

 

“It caught you at that lady’s house –“

 

“My Gramma,” Red said, then cringed, feeling dumb for interrupting.

 

“Your Grandma’s house,” the guy amended. “It caught you there because it had followed your scent. It liked the way you smelled.”

 

Red felt a chill run down his back. “Because I smelled like what? Food?”

 

The guy looked up at him, again. “Sexy. You smelled sexy to it.”

 

Yeah, that made more sense, given that, while his ass hurt, he didn’t actually have any flesh missing.

 

“Okay. Okay. And last night?”

 

“Same. Y-you smelled good, your scent was still lingering around and it tracked you. W-wanted you and took you.”

 

“How do you know this?” Red’s voice was barely there. He swallowed, hard, hearing the click of his throat.

 

The poor guy looked stricken, like he was going to be sick. Red couldn’t make out his answer, which rushed out on a shuddering breath. He started to move towards him, but the guy put one big hand out, as if warding him off. He cringed, then gulped hard and kept his eyes on the floor, as he said;

 

“It was me. I was the creature.”

 

“But-“

 

“I turn into it, at certain times. I get out of control, so I shut myself up in…” he gestured vaguely towards the cellar door.

 

“But… that can’t be. Look at you! You’re…” Hot? “You’re…oh God, you’re the guy from the diner!”

 

The guy just nodded, raised his hands and scrubbed them over his face.

 

“That...that…”

 

“That was where I caught your scent.”

 

“Oh, this…this is fucked up, man.”

 

A shockingly loud yelp of laughter burst out of the guy’s mouth. “You think?” He turned his face up to look at Red again, and there were tears shining on his cheeks, his lush mouth drawn into an attempt at a grin. All this confusing shit going on and the thought persistently running through Red’s mind was that the guy was hot.

 

“You’re really not hurt?”

 

“I don’t think so. Sore, couple ‘a bruises, but not, like, injured.”

 

“Good. Good.” He rubbed his hands over his face again, then got to his feet. “You wanna use the shower?”

 

And that was how Red ended up washing his hair in some complete (possibly crazy) stranger’s bathroom, trying to clean up the mess from last night and twist around enough to get all the cricks out of his back and shoulder and, _damn_ , his hips. The guy really had to be a crazy; wherever that creature had come from he had to have known about it and…what then? Where the hell had it gone? Could he actually mean it?

 

Okay; to-do list for the day included a) get the guy to make sense, b) figure out if that thing was going to come after him again c) go home and start figuring out how to get Gramma to move.

 

Also, at some point, he thought he ought to ask the guy’s name.

 

He rinsed off, stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the rail to dry off. He was just wandering if the guy would freak if he went back out there naked, when there was a tap at the door and a moment later he opened it a crack. The guy was kneeling on the floor in front of the fireplace. He’d put on a bathrobe and a pair of sweatpants and was vigorously jabbing at the logs in the fireplace with a poker. Red looked down and saw his clothes, folded neatly, lying on the floor at his feet. He stooped and picked them up, was about to close the door when it occurred to him again;

 

“Hey, what’s your name?”

 

“Huh?” The guy looked up and turned his head, apparently astonished that Red was willing to talk to him. “Uh, Alex.”

 

“Red,” said Red. Alex stared blankly at him for a moment, and then Red closed the door and put his clothes on. There were claw punctures in the leg of his jeans, just above the right knee. He seemed to recall his jacket tearing too, but that hadn’t been on the pile. Neither were his shoes.

 

So. Alex. Alex the hot crazy. Red had a good look at himself in the mirror and wasn’t remotely surprised that he looked like shit. But apparently he smelled good. He pulled out the collar of his sweater and t-shirt, stuck his nose in the gap and sniffed. He could smell soap and the staleness of second day clothing, beyond that not a whole lot.

 

Steeling himself, he opened the door of the bathroom and went out. The room was pleasantly warm, the fire crackling in the grate. Alex sat on the sofa, staring at the flames. Red cleared his throat and Alex leapt to his feet, stricken look still on his face.

 

“So, uh, I wanna ask some…stuff.”

 

“Stuff?”

 

“Yeah. None of this…stuff…is making sense to me. And I want it to. So I’d like you to answer some questions for me. That cool?”

 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, just…Jesus, I never talked about this before, you know?”

 

“What, never?”

 

Alex shook his head and dropped back onto the sofa with a thump. Red considered sitting next to him for a moment, then decided he wanted to look the guy in the face and chose the creaky armchair on the other side of the sofa. Alex obligingly turned towards him, a mingled expression of worry and curiosity on his face.

 

“So…” shit, where to begin? “So, what the hell happened?” That’d do it.

 

“Uh, you mean like, last night? Or in general?”

 

“Maybe start from the beginning? I guess?” Red felt seriously dumb, but then again there really was no social precedent for this.

 

“Okay. Uh, I guess it started when I got attacked by, I dunno what it was, something pretty much like what I turn into. Big… dog thing. I’d gone camping in the national park and this thing got into my tent and damn near took my leg off. It was a full moon, and every full moon since, and the day to either side of it, soon as it gets dark I…yeah.”

 

“That…”

 

“Yeah, I know, it makes no sense. But that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to tell it to you.”

 

“But, hang on, wait. You said it bit your leg. I didn’t see any scar or anything.” Alex looked glum, and Red got the feeling he was afraid he wouldn’t believe him. Which, yeah, he didn’t, but still.

 

“It healed. I heal up real quick, always have done, but even faster since…it.”

 

“So this other thing. You think it, what, thought you smelled…”

 

“I guess I’ll never know. I shot it. Didn’t kill it but it disappeared. Shame too, I would’ve liked to give whoever it was a piece a’ my mind.” This, delivered with a pissy countenance and pursed lips, made Red want to go and pet him.

 

“So, okay, that’s how you ended up with…the dog thing. So what happened then? I mean, did you just come home and fortify your basement, go to work as normal?”

 

“No! Ach, no, God, it took ages before I even figured out what was going on. I lived in the city back then, so I moved out here and started working by mail and stuff. I…some nights,” Alex rubbed at his face again and sighed. “Some nights I’m more normal than others. I have more control. So I could go out in the woods and roam around, you know? It made it easier on the other nights, when I had to lock myself in. Plus, fewer people around, less likely that anyone says, ‘hey, something weird about that guy,’ you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Red agreed.

 

“So, yeah, last couple of nights, uh…first night, when I saw you outside the diner? I’d gone to pick up something to eat when I turned, in case I had to lock in. I can usually tell the day before how it’s gonna go, but I wasn’t sure…then I saw you and you… smelled good. Well, I got home and I…I guess I didn’t realise how much I was thinking about you. I was feeling pretty mellow, so I decided I’d let myself out, y’know? But…soon as I was outside and changed, I just lost it. I ran back to where I’d last seen you and got there just in time to see you getting into your car, I followed you and you were going in and out of that house, so I snuck in while you were getting stuff out of your car. I don’t know…I can’t really remember making any decisions. I dunno how to explain it. It was like…instinctual reaction. I just wanted to _have_ you.”

 

“So,” why didn’t you? “What happened? You went for me, then stopped. Did the crush wear off?”

 

Alex smiled at that, but it was forced and sour looking. “No. No, your scent changed.” He lowered his head and scrubbed his hands through his hair, letting out a long, sighing breath. “I suddenly realised that you smelled scared. Not just like, freaked out, but…Okay, sometimes when I’m having a good night and I go out in the woods, I hunt. Not people,” he added hastily at Red’s badly concealed shock, “Just rabbits, birds, sometimes a deer or something. I get hungry. When…Jesus shit, this is hard.”

 

“S’okay,” Red said, as encouragingly as he could, even though he felt like his voice ought to be hurting. “Go ahead.”

 

Alex sighed again, then seemed to gather himself and looked Red straight in the eye. “When I hunt animals, when they know I’m hunting them, and I’m going to kill them and eat them, they get scared. I can smell it, strongly, like it’s leaking out of their skin. That was what you smelled like.”

 

Red gulped. That sounded pretty accurate.

 

“It hit me like a-a blow to the head. I couldn’t make you feel like that, I’m not a goddamned monster! So…I ran for it.”

 

Red nodded. Not a monster. Got it. “And last night?” he asked, half dreading the answer.

 

“Last night…I had less control. I locked myself up, but I busted out. That never happened before, I swear, I thought it’d make you safe, but…when I came after you, this time, I guess you didn’t get as scared or something…see, this is the thing I don’t get, why weren’t you completely fucking terrified?”

 

“I stopped myself,” Red cried, his voice coming out more defensive than he intended. “I decided not to be scared, and I wasn’t, and, and…”

 

“And I raped you.” Alex concluded quietly.

 

It felt like all the air had gone from the room at those words. Red couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alex’s face, silently begging him to take it back, but Alex stared blankly at the floor, leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, his hands clenched together so tightly it looked like he was hurting himself. Red felt desperate, desperate to say something that would make it all better, but he couldn’t. The only thing that came into his mind made it worse.

 

“I liked it.”

 

Alex’s head whipped up and he stared, wide eyed and disbelieving.

 

“I-I know it sounds unbelievable, but I don’t know if it really was, you know, _that_. It doesn’t count, does it, ‘cause once you started nothing in the world could have made me tell you to stop, even if I’d thought you would…” He sounded like a kid, barely able to get the words out, and Alex was staring at him now like he was crazy.

 

“I don’t get it, any of this,” he carried on, doggedly. “I don’t get this stuff about the dog and what happened with you or…that was the most frightening thing that ever happened to me, but, Jesus, if you told me now that-“

 

“You don’t believe me?”

 

“What?”

 

Alex shifted in his seat. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?” He looked incredulous, and even though he didn’t seem angry, it occurred to Red that he probably ought to be wary.

 

“I…you have to admit, it’s really out there. I mean-“

 

“You… shit, I _need_ you to believe me! Please…I never told anyone about this before, and I just…I gotta-“

 

Suddenly, Alex was out of his seat and across the floor, crouching in front of Red, and Red jerked with shock as he realised he was trapped there. But Alex seemed calm, almost resigned. One big hand on the arm of the chair, inches from Red’s own hand, and the other held up in front of his own face, Alex simply said “Look.”

 

Red looked at that held-up hand, the back of it turned towards him. pale skin and a few wisps of dark hair around the wrist, square nails that…that were becoming longer. The hand was growing broader, the fingers shortening, hair thickening and spreading and there was no better word to describe those nails now than claws.

 

Red tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. The armchair creaked as he tried to push himself further back into it. Alex turned his hand so Red could see the palm, now bearing thick pads of greyish skin.

 

“Doesn’t have to be full moon,” Alex said quietly, his voice strained. “Can be anytime, ‘s just harder when it’s not the full moon.”

 

Red nodded, still staring. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what and he had a feeling that if he tried, the words wouldn’t come. Alex grunted, as if he were in pain, and slowly, slowly, his hand changed back to normal.

 

Red breathed again.

 

Alex looked into Red’s eyes, his own face sad and serious. “Now do you believe me?” he asked quietly. Red nodded. “Good.”

 

Red could feel his pulse pounding in his chest and sweat forming on his brow. Alex’s grey eyes were staring directly into his own, worried but calm, and Red could feel something there, strong but flickering, like warmth, like a link, a bond…which was lost as Alex lifted his head slightly and sniffed the air-

 

And then looked directly at Red’s groin.

 

“You’re…”

 

 _Hard_.

 

“Yeah,” gasped Red weakly.

 

Alex’s big hand, the one he’d just watched transform into that horrible claw, reached slowly for his midsection, Alex’s eyes checking his face, thumb slipping under the edge of his sweater and t-shirt to push both garments up, slowly, over his stomach. Alex’s eyes were wide, fixed now on the small patch of bared skin, pressing his warm palm to it, almost reverently. His eyes flicked upwards to meet Red’s, questioning…

 

“Y-yes! Do it.”

 

And Alex leaned forward, pressed his mouth damply to Red’s stomach, and kissed him there.

 

Slid his hand down to cup Red’s cock, and slid closer on his knees when Red spread his legs. Red was straining for breath as Alex’s tongue slid across his belly, just under his navel, and then both hands were on him, unfastening his jeans, yanking them and his underwear down and lifting him out. Hot, wet mouth sliding down, and off his belly, sliding down to encompass his cock.

 

His hands were clenched tight on the arms of the chair, his thighs squeezed tight around Alex’s broad chest. Sparks danced in front of his eyes, he managed to steady his vision long enough to look at Alex’s face, eyes closed, skin flushed, cheek distorted by the head of Red’s cock pressing it out; he had to shut his eyes again else he would’ve come.

 

“God! _Ah_!”

 

Alex grunted, let Red slide out of his mouth and ran the pointed tip of his tongue around the ridge of his glans and into the slit…”Aargh! Alex!” He twisted, thrust his hips up, and Alex’s arm wrapped around his hips, pulling him to the edge of the chair and sucking him in deep. His deep breaths were chilling the trail of saliva on Red’s stomach and he shivered, pushed deeper, and Alex didn’t hesitate, just took his cock into his throat, just took Red’s death grip on his shoulders and legs around his ribs, he just…took him.

 

Red _loved_ it.

 

The grip Alex had on him limited his movement, so all he could do was clench and shudder and _feel_ , that perfect, slick pressure, cringingly hard suction, his throat was raw from yelling…

 

“Oh God!”

 

Alex’s hands slid under his ass, pulled him in.

 

“Ah! Shit, Alex!”

 

Sudden quiet as he stopped yelling to drag in his breath, and then his body shook as he came. The rushing of blood in his ears couldn’t block out the guttural sound of Alex swallowing down his come and he flinched again, twisted in Alex’s big arms, balls hurting, body sore.

 

Alex pulled his mouth away and sat up, smiling. “Jeez, you look like you had a stroke.”

 

“Uh.”

 

He could feel the chair sliding against his back and nearly panicked for a moment, then realised that Alex was tugging his jeans off, then pulling _him_ , kneeling comfortably and arranging Red in his lap. Legs draped around Alex’s waist, arms around his shoulders, forehead against his collarbone, and he could feel Alex’s chuckle ruffle his hair.

 

“Tha’s a good way to finish a scary conversation,” he mumbled, and the chuckle became a real, out-loud laugh. It sounded pretty good. He turned his head and looked up at Alex’s flushed face. He was smiling, his lips a little swollen, and it changed his whole face. He was just…gorgeous.

 

Red pulled himself together, shifted on Alex’s sturdy thighs until he could sit upright, and kissed him. Slipped his tongue into Alex’s mouth and tasted the sharp flavour of his own come. Alex licked at the roof of his mouth and squeezed him close, closer so that Red could feel how hard he was through the layers of clothes. Without breaking the kiss, Red grabbed the tie holding Alex’s bathrobe closed and yanked the knot undone. It took a little shuffling and twisting from both of them, and then Alex’s sweatpants were down far enough the Red could wrap his hand around him, making Alex gasp into his mouth.

 

Alex’s cock was a big and as gorgeous as the rest of him, bulky and sleek with a thick roll of foreskin gathered at the head. It even felt good, sliding smoothly through Red’s grip, warm, silky fluid drooling down the length of it. He rubbed his calloused thumb over the head and Alex grimaced and hissed through his teeth. Red squeezed and stroked harder and Alex gasped, raising his head to take deep, gusty breaths. Red leaned back in his arms, so he could get both hands down between them, pumping his cock and squeezing his balls and – holy crap, Alex _really_ liked that, judging by the pained groan that let out of his throat, like something terrible escaping from a cage.

 

“Ah, no, no, you’re gonna make me come…” he said weakly.

 

“That’s the point, y’know? Sex an’ all that,” Red replied, grinning.

 

“Nnn-naagh! It… _ugh_ …it’s gonna make me want you more. Already… _ahuh_...I want you too much!”

 

Sounded good. “Just come,” Red replied quietly, and as Alex struggled to look at him, Red leaned forward and kissed him. Alex groaned again, so harshly that Red felt the vibrations through his lips, felt the strong fingers clutching at his back. Alex’s big cock throbbed and he came, thick semen splashing onto Red’s stomach and hands and bare thighs.

 

They sat like that for a few moments, wrapped closely together, bodies calming and settling. Alex pressed his nose into Red’s thick hair and took a deep sniff.

 

“God damn,” he stated calmly, then tipped Red onto his back on the rug. ‘Here we are again,’ Red thought for a moment, and grinned as Alex carefully, almost reverently, crawled over him, propping himself on his elbows and dipping his head to kiss the splashes of white seed off Red’s thighs. So sweet, that warm, wet mouth.

 

Like an electric shock, an image of that same mouth, growling at him through a fearsome, jagged row of teeth flashed through his mind, and his body twitched. His breathing halted for a sharp second, and then he could feel himself heating up.

 

Alex sniffed him again and must have been able to tell. He let out a soft moan and pressed his forehead to Red’s sweaty belly.

 

“Come to my bed,” he murmured. “Please.”

 

There seemed to be a wealth of meaning in that request, and an age-old scrap of nature documentary knowledge whispered something into his mind about wolves and territory, but he wasn’t really listening.

 

“Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

 

 

 

Alex’s bedroom was warm and dim, lit only by the haze penetrating the thin curtains. Neither of them reached for the light switch. Red had left a trail of clothes across the floor of the living room and now he simply climbed into the wrought iron-framed bed and sat cross legged on the mattress, the bedclothes pushed down past his feet. It surprised him a little that Alex was looking nervous at the prospect of stripping, since Red had seen him naked that morning, and he had only pulled his pants back up long enough to walk across the living room, but he flushed and looked all shy as he hung up his bathrobe and took the pants off entirely.

 

“Y’ okay?”

 

“Yeah, it,” he looked over at Red, looked him up and down and smiled. “It’s been a long time, you know?”

 

Red laughed. “Making up for it now, right?”

 

Alex gave him that gorgeous smile again, walked over to the bed, and Red lay back against the pillows. Given the moment of shyness, he was a little startled when, instead of climbing in next to him, Alex got directly on top of him. Pleasant surprise though, big, hairy body on elbows and knees above him, giving off warmth like a radiator. Sweet, deep kisses, and he slid his arms around Alex’s chest and rolled them onto their sides.

 

“So…mmph…what d’you wanna do?”

 

“What d’ _you_ wanna do?” Smile against his lips.

 

“Heh. Fuck me?”

 

“Sure you’re okay? Are you sore?”

 

“Little. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

 

Alex drew back from him a little and studied his face. He looked wary and a little nervous.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I just…are you sure? I mean, it was me. That…last night-“

 

“I know, I know. It’s okay. Well, not precisely okay. But, you know, no hard feelings.” He reached out and ran his fingers through the thick patch of hair on Alex’s chest.

 

“Not exactly no hard…you know what? That was almost really bad.”

 

Red snorted and pulled him close to kiss him again. “Fuck me. Say ‘Okay’”

 

Kiss.

 

“Okay.”

 

“That’s the ticket. Got slick?”

 

Alex turned to get a little plastic bottle from the nightstand, twisted it open and wedged it into a loop of the metal headboard.

 

“That’s a practiced move,” Red noted. “Porn stash under the bed?”

 

“Yeah. Nothing like the real thing,” Alex replied happily, and grabbed Red’s hips, holding him tight against his own abdomen and rolling onto his back so that Red was on top, straddling him.

 

“That okay?”

 

“Just dandy,” Red replied, leaning down to kiss him some more. Alex looked a little wary again. If he needed Red to be on top of him so he could feel he wasn’t a threat, fine. Red licked his tongue and felt him relax a little. Felt Alex’s big hands slid down his back to cup his buttocks and gently finger his asshole. He sighed and kissed and tried not to shiver too much.

 

Big arm wrapped around his waist again, squeezing him close and crushing their dicks together, folding him up until his knees creaked. Held him there, while the other hand came back, fingers slick and smoothing down the crease of his ass, sliding in, just a flinch of pain and then Red was pushing back. He was sore, yes, but the heat prickling in his muscles and the sheer _want_ that he could feel made that little flash of pain seem like nothing. No, better than that, it made the pleasure sharper, less abstract, like the taste of spice on roasted meat, sharp citrus in sweet ice cream.

 

Slow so far, gentle and gradual. Alex’s fingers sleeking him open, Alex’s open mouth against his, working wetly, not-quite-kissing, not-quite sighing.

 

Alex’s hands pulled away and Red yelped, grabbing at his upper arms.

 

“I gotta-“

 

“Nnnah!”

 

“I gotta get more slick. I need to put some on-“

 

“Nah, that’s enough.”

 

“It’s not, I didn’t use that much.”

 

Red sat up on Alex’s hips and shifted a little, feeling squishy. He frowned, then opened his mouth to say something…and then took a good look at Alex’s cock and decided that, yeah, better to be huge than sorry.

 

Safe. Safe than sorry.

 

Watched the blocky muscle of Alex’s chest flex as he stretched back to get the bottle from the headboard and squeeze some into his hand. Watched the big hand close around the girth of that bulky cock and wiped a little saliva from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

A little bit of manoeuvring to line them up and then he was sliding down, Alex slipping inside him. Slow and easy, Alex’s hands on his hips, broad thighs propped behind him, keeping it gradual. Good thing. Only a couple of inches inside him and it _hurt_ , he had to grit his teeth.

 

“You okay?”

 

“ _Nnnyeah_ …yeah. Just…”

 

“Slow.”

 

“ _Haah_ , slow. Yeah. For now.”

 

Alex shifted his hips a little and Red gasped and tried to push down, felt a little twist of something dark inside him when he realised that Alex was strong enough to hold him still like that. Good. Really good.

 

It took them a couple of minutes, shifting and sliding and straining, a far cry from that long, hard shove last night, but that was then and this was now, and the slow grind was so good that Red could see glitter around the edges of his vision. Alex was panting, sweat shining on his face. And then…

 

And then it was inside him, the whole length of Alex’s cock. He felt spitted, filled to bursting and stretched out of shape, breathing hard through his teeth. Alex’s big hand spread on his stomach and rubbed, and he felt something ease. Leaned back a little against Alex’s thighs and worked his hips…

 

God!

 

Good…really good.

 

“Yeah, oh, oh hell!” gasped Alex. He slid his hands under Red’s thighs and lifted a little, just moved him to where he wanted him and thrust up-

 

“ _Argh_! Yeah!”

 

Alex arched under him, thrust again, harder, and that was it; the rhythm was there now, both of them moving, smoothly and perfectly, Red was grunting and clutching at Alex’s thigh with one hand, at his own erection with the other, and Alex swatted his hand away, grabbed him with his own still-slick fingers and pumped.

 

Red _yelled_.

 

Moments away from coming, each deep thrust inside him, each tight squeeze bringing him closer, and then Alex grabbed his hips tighter, tensed and _moved_.

 

Red could barely gasp before he was on his back on the crumpled bedclothes, hips hefted up, legs draped over Alex’s thighs and Alex’s cock plunging into him, pumping vigorously. He grabbed the footboard of the bed with one fist and slid the other hand down to stroke himself and-

 

“Oh God!”

 

and-

 

“Yeah, yeah! _Alex_!”

 

and-

 

And he was coming, arching and clenching and struggling for breath as his body throbbed. He was vaguely aware that he was shouting again, but his ears weren’t working, shut down, coming too hard. Alex’s face was taught, his teeth bared as he fucked, whole body flexing. Red hooked his ankles together behind Alex’s waist and held on tight. His own come was trickling up his stomach towards his chest and it took him a moment to realise it was because Alex had lifted his hips up so high.

 

He was hurting now, each thrust jarring flesh that had been near squeezed dry of pleasure, and yet with each deep, aggressive lunge there was a great whimper of want, in his throat, inside his body.

 

Alex was gasping above him, fingers digging into his skin, opening his mouth wide to pant, and then to yowl with painful-sounding relief as he came, the wash of hot cum inside Red’s body almost soothing.

 

Alex lowered him back to the bed as gently as he could with his shaking arms. slippery cock sliding easily out. Red winced as his thigh muscles complained, then disguised it as Alex flopped down next to him and studied his face.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Much better than okay. C’mere.”

 

 

*

 

“We didn’t use a condom.”

 

“No.” Red sighed, drumming his fingers on his stomach. “I’m pretty sure I’m clean though. I mean, I know ‘pretty sure’ isn’t great, but…I only had sex a couple of times since I last got tested and we used rubbers, so…ought to be okay. From my end.” He looked inquisitively at Alex.

 

“Same here. No unprotected sex since I last got checked out. Hell, no _sex_ since I last got checked out.”

 

“We’re probably good.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Weirdly enough, Red, usually a natural worrier, felt pretty secure about that. It was like… nothing about Alex could hurt him. And yeah, in the real world he knew better than to trust that instinct, but somehow this cosy, dimly lit bedroom didn’t feel anything like the real world, and he just felt…right.

 

“So,” he said, settling more comfortably against Alex’s side. “Tell me about yourself.”

 

::

 

“An accountant? Seriously? I thought you guys were supposed to be boring.”

 

“Yeah, well, I thought chefs were supposed to be fat,” Alex replied, poking Red’s flat stomach with his forefinger. Alex was sitting against the bed head, cross legged, and Red was sprawled lazily on his lap, back to Alex’s chest. It was nice to be with a big guy; he was comfy.

 

“I haven’t been a _real_ chef that long. I only finished my training a year and a half ago. I didn’t have time to get fat yet.”

 

“Okay, fair’s fair. And not all accountants are boring.”

 

“Just most?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“So you work from home?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve mostly had the same clients for years. I started off doing it mostly by mail, and now by the internet, so I don't have to go meet them much. How ‘bout you?”

 

“I work in a hotel kitchen, but I’m not sure I wanna stay there. It’s really impersonal, you know? I’d like to be able to make friends with my co-workers and stuff like that, but everyone’s too busy.”

 

“Aw,” said Alex, and squeezed him a little. He was seriously cute for a big guy. Red felt himself blush a bit, stupid really.

 

*

 

“Does everybody call you Red?”

 

“Most people. My Mom doesn't like to, or my boss, but pretty much everybody else does. I never liked 'Rufus'.”

 

Alex leaned to one side, reaching with one hand to turn Red's head towards him a little and studied his face. “It doesn't really suit you. 'Red' is better.”

 

“I know right? I don't get why Mom still sticks with Rufus though.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Red sighed and snuggled a little more deeply into the curve of Alex's body. A worry slipped through his mind that he might be slowly squashing the guy's organs or something, but he figured Alex would speak up before it came to that.

 

“Okay...you sure you want to hear this? It's all...shitty family stuff, you know, pretty boring and depressing.”

 

Alex smoothed his hand over Red's hair, and down his side, which felt nice. It settled, warm and a little rough, just below his right shoulder blade. “Tell me,” he said.

 

“Okay, well...my Mom has brown hair and so does everybody in her family for, like, generations. Since records began, you know? And the same went for my Dad. So when I was born with hair like a fire truck, Dad went ballistic, saying that I wasn't his son, that Mom had had an affair and all this crap, really shitty, you know? Like, he told all her friends she's cheated on him and tricked him into marrying her and stuff, and kept phoning up my Grandparents trying to get them to tell him who my real father was. Anyway, this was going on for like six months, Mom couldn't take it anymore and said she was going to leave him... _That_ was when his parents decided to break the big news, a little too damn late if you ask me.”

 

“What was the big news?” Alex asked softly.

 

“He was adopted. It was a safe bet that the red hair genes came from his natural parents. He was really upset that they hadn't told him and he declared that he couldn’t be with Mom anymore because he had to go and get to know himself or something…he never even apologised to her.”

 

“Must have been hard for her,” Alex said quietly.

 

“Yeah. She was always a good Mom though. And Granpa was still alive then and he and Gramma lived near us in the city, so it wasn’t like we were all on our own.”

 

Alex was staring at him quietly, watching Red’s lips move as he spoke, a tender look in his eyes.

 

Red felt his face get warm and looked away, his gaze falling on the clock on the nightstand.

 

“Jeez, is it really one in the afternoon?”

 

Alex followed his gaze. “Yeah, I guess so. It would only have been about…six maybe, when we woke up. Somewhere you gotta be?”

 

“Nah, not yet, just…”

 

“What.”

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

Alex gave him a wide grin, trying to look mean. “For what?” he asked.

 

“Food mainly,” Red replied, trying not to laugh while speaking with him mouth pressed against Alex’s cheek, “but yeah, that too.”

 

“Good, cause-“

 

A loud crash in the front room made them both jump, and the arm around Red’s waist tightened as Alex moved out from under him, rolling him onto the mattress and moving to jump off the bed. No time to do anything though, before something hit the bedroom door heavily and it swung open to reveal

 

Trooper Dave.

 

Pointing a gun at them.

 

Or, rather, at Alex.

 

“What did you do with that kid, you _freak_?” he screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth. “I found his car! I saw the footprints! Where is he?!”

 

“Uh…” Red managed.

 

Trooper Dave’s eyes flicked towards him, widened, went back to Alex…and then seemed to take in the fact that they were both naked and on the bed.

 

“ _Gah_!” And out he went, back out into the living room, like greased lightning.

 

“What…”

 

“Crap. Stay here a minute, okay?” Alex said softly. Red nodded, and Alex grabbed his sweatpants and bathrobe, put them on quickly, and went after Trooper Dave.

 

What the hell had that been about?

 

The warm air seemed to have escaped the room, or maybe it was just the loss of Alex’s body heat. He tugged the bedclothes around himself. They smelled good, like them.

 

He could hear the two of them talking, Alex’s low bass voice a little more audible than Trooper Dave’s rapid, desperate sounding tones. It seemed that Dave had found Red’s car and some animal tracks and assumed Alex had made off with Red which, yeah, pretty astute. But he was a little surprised to find Red snuggled up in bed, rather than in pieces on the kitchen table or something.

 

Whoa, Alex sounded pissed off now. He was telling Dave that he was crazy and to get off his back. Sounded like a pretty old argument too. According to Alex’s story, Red’s car had got a flat, he’d come by and helped him change it, invited him back for a coffee because he was cold, and they took it from there.

 

Trooper Dave was quiet for a minute. Alex quietly, dangerously, asked if Dave had gone so far as to upset Red’s Gramma. Nope. Good.

 

And no, Alex assured him, they hadn’t seen any giant dogs. And he thought that Dave should apologise to Red for barging in on them. Taking his hint from the slight rise in volume of Alex’s voice, Red glanced around the room for clothes, remembered that his were all over the living room floor, and wrapped the sheet around himself. Not quite toga style, more like a bath towel, but all the interesting stuff was covered so it’d do.

 

The door opened a little and Alex stuck his head through the gap.

 

“Would you mind coming out here a minute, please?”

 

He looked annoyed and worn out. Red smiled at him and went.

 

A very quiet, slightly ill looking Trooper Dave apologised quickly and then rushed from the house, letting the door slam, but unfortunately not hit him in the ass, on the way out.

 

“You okay?” asked Red in the sudden quiet.

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah. Never got a gun pointed at me before.”

 

“Well, that’s the beauty of ol’ Dave. You get to experience all sorts of…stupid shit.” Red chuckled behind his closed lips. “I think,” Alex continued, “that in all his years of comin’ up with weird ideas, the only thing he got right is me turning into a big dog. And you and me have just convinced him he was wrong.”

 

Red laughed out loud at that.

 

“You still hungry?”

 

::

 

An hour later, washed and dressed, they both sat in the kitchen, eating sandwiches. Alex had cleared up the remains of the cellar door while Red had been in the shower earlier, and the gap was now covered by a blanket hung from the top of the door frame. Red had made the food, even though Alex had told him not to and tried to butt in. It was nice; most people just assumed he’d cook because he was a chef, but Alex really wanted to be…a host or something.

 

“So, what were we talking about, anyway?”

 

“When officer dumb ass turned up? You’d just told me you were hungry…”

 

“And before that we’d been getting to know each other. In the not-sex sense.”

 

“Yeah.” Alex grinned. “We covered that for now? Or you wanna know more?”

 

“Kinda. That okay?”

 

“Sure, go ahead.”

 

“Ummmm…” Red took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly while he thought. “Okay, uh, how old are you?”

 

Alex swallowed hard, then set his sandwich down and took a couple of big gulps from his glass of water.

 

“What, that a bad question or something?”

 

“Hah, kinda. A lot older that you, that enough?”

 

“Nope,” Red replied smiling. “It doesn’t bother me, before you ask. And I wanna know.”

 

Alex sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. “You know I told you about when I got bitten?”

 

“I recall something of that nature, yes.”

 

“Well, I was thirty six then-“

 

“So it wasn’t that long ago?”

 

“It…”

 

“What?”

 

“It was twenty seven years ago.”

 

“…oh.”

 

The kitchen was quiet, except for the rustle of leaves in the back yard. Red was staring at the salt shaker, feeling his heart beat. Alex, as far as he could tell, was sitting still, watching him.

 

Okay.

 

Thing was…

 

It…

 

It had been weird when that thing turned up in his Gramma’s house. It had been _really_ weird when it brought him here and fucked him. It had been _super_ weird to wake up and find that it had turned into a guy. But this…

 

“You didn’t…get any older?”  
  


“No. Not yet, anyway.”

 

“H-how? _How_?!”

 

Alex’s pale grey eyes were fixed steadily on him, his face looked worried. “I don’t know. I don’t really know what happened to me. I know it doesn’t make any sense-“

 

“You’re damn right! I-I just don’t get it. _Any_ of this!”

 

“Red, listen-“

 

“No, okay, so it’s messed up, but I _like_ you, okay?! I _never_ just like someone, all of a sudden like that, and even with all this messed up _shit_ going on, I do!”

 

Alex stared at him, not quite blankly. Almost hopefully.

 

“I…just like you. That okay?”

 

“Sure. That’s good.”

 

::

 

“It’s gonna…happen again tonight.”

 

“Huh? _Oh_! Oh.”

 

“You don’t want to be here to see that.” Neither a question nor a command, but he was right.

 

They finished their food silently, then Red picked up his things, put on his shoes and coat and waited by the door. Alex seemed to have picked up on it before Red even started moving, and he was right by his side as they went out of the door, down the porch steps and into the woods. The path was narrow but clear, and Red felt calm and secure, following it along the ground with Alex moving quietly behind him.

 

Soon enough, the road came into view, and then Red’s car, still at the side of the road, right where he’d left it. If he’d had fewer distractions over the last sixteen hours or so, he probably would have been worried about it. Somebody had gotten rid of the deer carcass but there was still a pretty big blood stain on the asphalt. Alex glanced at it uncomfortably as they crossed the road.

 

No cars around, hardly any noise. Red unlocked the drivers side door then turned around. Alex was right in front of him, keeping him against the side of the car, but not trapping him, not penning him in like he could have done.

 

“Will I see you again?” Red was almost surprised to realise it was him that had spoken.

 

“Only if you want to.”

 

“Yeah. I mean…yes.”

 

Alex leaned forward and down a little, Red lifted his face… and they kissed, soft and quiet, Alex’s fingers brushing the underside of his chin. He felt a shiver go down his spine as they drew back from each other.

 

“Okay,” he said.

 

“Okay. Drive safe.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He got in the car, put on his seatbelt, started the engine and pulled away. He glanced in the mirror and Alex was waving at him. Glanced back again and Alex was still there, turning away towards the woods again.

 

Third glance back and he was gone.

 

It was only afternoon, but the sun was low in the sky, turning the clouds red.

 

He wondered when he’d see Alex again.

**Author's Note:**

> The werewolf forces Red to have sex, and Red, believing that he is going to be killed shortly, consciously decides to enjoy it. Later he hesitates to classify it as a rape, as he meets Alex in his human form and feels a connection with him, learning also that he wasn't in a rational frame of mind while a wolf and that he deeply regrets harming Red.
> 
> If you think this may upset you or act as a trigger for you, don't read the story!
> 
>  
> 
> Some author notes:
> 
> The reason I decided to write this is because, for a long time, I’ve enjoyed the dark side of fairy stories. Those safe little tales we grow up on are rarely much to do with the originals; the very first version of Little Red Riding Hood was a warning to children against the perils of talking to strangers, with the little girl ending her days in the wolf’s belly. Little details like this, and say, Snow White forcing her wicked stepmother to wear red hot metal shoes and dance until she died of exhaustion, or Sleeping Beauty waking up to find herself heavily pregnant after being raped while she was asleep, are for some peculiar reason left out of most children’s picture books. Little Red Riding Hood was always a favourite though. I remember reading something about it in a textbook on literary criticism years ago, to do with erotic undertones and all that business, about how the different aspects of carnality, lust for flesh as food and lust for flesh as sexual fulfilment, can get all mixed up in such stories, and it struck a chord with me. Recently, reading an excellent book of ‘twisted’ fairy tales (more on that later) the idea popped back into my mind and I decided to take a shot at writing this. So there you have it. 
> 
> Despite it being a hideous bastardisation that would probably have the Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault et al rolling in their graves, I tried to fit as much detail of the original story into Little Red as possible and I hope it was apparent. Red makes a basket (or cooler) of food to his ill Grandmother at his Mother’s request and, despite a warning from a concerned woodsman (or slightly stupid law man), tells a stranger where he’s going and is accosted once he reaches the apparent safety of her house. If you read carefully the part when the creature first attacked Red, you’ll see that I got the classic references of ‘what big eyes/ ears/ teeth’ in there too, and added ‘cock’ on the end also because, well, it was too obvious to pass up. Sadly, Trooper Dave’s moment of triumph as the fearless rescuer was scuppered by Alex having been lonely for a mate, rather than a bloodthirsty carnivore. In my head, Alex’s name is usually suffixed with ‘the Big, Nice Wolf’, which I think sums him up quite well.
> 
> My original idea for the story was actually rather darker than what turned out here. My first draft had the wolf creature rape Red at that first encounter in his Gramma’s house. Red went into total denial and went home, then came back a month later to visit again having blocked out everything that had happened, and saw the stranger in the diner. He followed him, hoping to proposition him, and saw him transform, then they had sex out in the woods. While I quite liked this idea, once the characters were put together I couldn’t quite make it fit, and I’ve always been a sucker for romance, so it ended up being a little gentler and cuddlier.
> 
> Regarding a few cultural details; you may have surmised from the tone of my writing that I am English (I’m told it’s obvious). And yes, Little Red is set somewhere in North America. Why I did this, I don’t know, but it’s probably mostly due to the fact that, when I came to think about writing this, Red popped into my head fully formed, chattering away, and sounding exactly like Michael Shanks, accent and all, so he ended up an American and so did the rest of it. If anyone spots any huge blunders I’ve made in the setting, please let me know.
> 
> If you liked this, you may like a few of the books that I read to inspire me. I can really recommend The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter, a collection of short stories based on various fairy tales (as mentioned above) including two very creepy versions of Little Red Riding Hood. I also liked The Big Book of Grimm edited by Jonathan Vankin, as it makes every effort to get to the very original versions of each tale, including some really esoteric ones. There is also an excellent short story by Neil Gaiman called Snow, Glass, Apples, based on Snow White – amazingly creepy! I think it was most recently published in a volume called Smoke and Mirrors.
> 
> So there you have it. Thank you for reading Little Red. I really hope that I haven’t damaged your childhood memories of story time in any way.


End file.
